IN THE MORNING, we depart a realm of hazelnuts, bound for a land of grapes. We’re riding from Cortemilia to a lunch in Barbaresco, the source of one of Italy’s greatest wines. Like its noble brother Barolo, Barbaresco is made from the nebbiolo grape, which has proven successful only here in Piedmont, southeast of the Alps.

Piedmont, or Piemonte, means “foot of the mountains,” and as that implies, we have some hills to tackle before gustation can commence. First is a climb of 800 feet to the town of Castino, followed by a switchback descent to the rushing Belbo River. Next, a tiny road that could pass for a driveway takes us 1,000 feet skyward in fewer than 3 miles.

Panting uphill past precipitous vineyards, barking dogs, and tractors piloted by octogenerians in undershirts, I wonder how Heather and Larry manage to find roads like this. Is it an instinct for untrammelled bucolia, or is it simply sadism?

The grade levels out as we pass the chapels of San Donato and Madonna d’Annunziata (S. and Mad. on the map), and we find ourselves in Mango, a hilltop village with a wine shop in a castle. Unlike most of the previous week, with weather that had been hot and hazy, today is spectacularly clear and crisp, with views that extend to the snowcapped Alps. Ignoring the stares of men massing for their Sunday get-together in the piazza, we click-clack in our cycling shoes into the enoteca; in addition to hundreds of local wines, the place contains a selection of grappe, nuts, oils, books, and maps. After we make a few purchases, the shop owner insists that we repair to his patio, following us with a plate of antipasti and a complimentary­ bottle of Moscato d’Asti, the famous sparkling dessert wine from this area.

I’m beginning to wonder what happened to the idea of lunch.

Photo: Jered Gruber

Nothing, as it turns out: After an hour at the enoteca, we pedal about 20 minutes to Barbaresco and pull into Ristorante Rabaya, where we’re soon surrounded by prosciutto-and-liver pâté, roasted duck with balsamic dressing, ricotta cheese wrapped in shaved asparagus, risotto made with Barbaresco, agnolotti del plin (“pinched” ravioli) with butter and sage sauce, tajarin (Piedmontese for tagliarini, or thin, light pasta made with a million egg yolks), a Grasso Langhe chardonnay and a deep-purple dolcetto made just down the street. By the time we leave the restaurant, it’s after three o’clock—and we still have 43 miles to ride, with dinner scheduled for eight p.m.

As I embark for Guarene—next in the seemingly endless series of beautiful hilltop villages—it’s clear that I’m being indoctrinated with CycleItalia’s ­official motto: Pedale forte, mangia bene—“Ride hard, eat well.” Some of my friends at home consider this my ­personal credo, but they have no idea. Compared to a trip with Larry and Heather, my normal riding-and-eating regimen feels like a spin around the block combined with spartan fasting.

I FIRST MET Heather Reid and Larry Theobald in 1992, when they were working as a translator and a driver/mechanic for a tour company that follows pro bike races. I’d hooked up with them as a journalist for the second half of the Giro d’Italia—a memorable tour of northern Italy, including the Alps, Dolomites, Piedmontese wine country, and Lake Garda. Tailored for serious American cyclists, that trip had, unfortunately, lacked a thing or two in the cultural and culinary departments; after one meal, I’d remarked that, “An enophile doesn’t know the meaning of depression until he asks a tableful of people, ‘Who wants wine?’ and nobody raises a hand.”

As it turned out, my frustrations were shared by Larry and Heather.­ In 1998 they founded their own company: CycleItalia, which aims to combine serious cycling with serious food and wine appreciation. Their online newsletter, La Gazzetta dello CycleItalia, and their daily ride notes, contain information on local cuisine, history, and architecture. They fine-tune their trips to take advantage of changing seasons, local fare, weather and ­other ­factors, so trips might change slightly from year to year, but all of them are true to the founding ethos. The enterprise consists solely of Larry and Heather­—the latter a one-time collegiate track-cycling champion and author of several books on the philosophy of sport.